


Beards and Flower Crowns

by NotTheProtagonist



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gilbert thinking a little too much, Maybe a little OOC, Sadly, and Anne, and Bash, and beards, because he's just a kid at the end of the day, because let's face it i didn't write AnnE, thinking about his dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheProtagonist/pseuds/NotTheProtagonist
Summary: Gilbert shouldn't do so much thinking so early in the morning.





	Beards and Flower Crowns

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write more from Gil's POV and decided he was one of those people who'd sit on their beds for about 20 minutes right after waking up just thinking. Hope you enjoy!

Despite his legendary travels across the world, Gilbert was still a boy. He'd tasted exotic fruits and met what felt like hundreds of new faces, but at the end of the day, men's clothes were still a little too loose for him. Worst of all, he was teetering on the edge of sixteen and, after much teasing from Bash, still hadn't grown any form of facial hair.

Sometimes when he looked at his reflection (and he was sure he was alone), he would stroke his jaw slightly wistfully. Bash's beard was thick and full. Even Moody was growing a bit of a stubble. When would his arrive?  
He could remember Mary playfully slapping the back of Bash's head when he made fun of Gilbert. With a gentle pat on his shoulder, she had assured him girls liked a face free of facial hair. 'Not as scratchy, like an animal rather than a man', she had drawled, arching an eyebrow at her husband.  
He didn't need it. But sometimes it would be nice to know he could grow a beard – if he wanted.  
Childishly, he hoped his would grow before Billy Andrews. Anything to remind him he wasn't the most mature boy in Avonlea.  
He dismissed the thought, glancing at himself in the mirror. The sunrise was just stretching over the farm, casting golden light into his room and making his pale skin look a little other-worldly. 

Was it really a beard he wanted?  
His father had one before falling ill and he always imagined one day he'd teach him how to shave. He'd taught him practically everything else he knew. Surprising Bash and Mary with his father's beef and wine stew had been hilarious. Bash had sniffed and poked it several times before nodding bravely and tasting a morsel. Somehow, he became convinced Gilbert had poisoned his serving as revenge for Bash remarking that Anne looked 'ready for a wedding of her own' in her pale blue dress, before elbowing Gilbert and making a show of winking at them.

Both had been blushing furiously and stammering excuses to escape, but Gilbert had to give it to Bash – Anne had looked wonderful that day. And every other day. He hadn't seen her yet that morning, but he was pretty sure she looked great.   
It wasn't difficult to imagine Anne in a white dress and veil, with her amethyst brooch on her breast and delicate flower crown in her hair.  
Matthew would walk her down the aisle, and Marilla would sit at the front, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Diana would be the maid of honour. Bash would be his best man. 

Wait. Gilbert was the groom?

He paused, eyes shifting from his reflection.  
There was no doubt Anne would marry one day. Everyone lucky enough to know her knew she was wonderfully clever and enchanting and beautiful and staggeringly fierce.  
Gilbert cleared his throat. At least, that's what he had...heard.  
They had been getting along well since Bash and Mary's wedding. Even there, the conversation had wandered into the possibility of a 'tragical romance'.  
Did she mean with him? The thought of it made his hands sweaty. And he had a feeling Anne wouldn't want to hold a sweaty hand.  
What if he screwed it up? What if she found someone else? What if fireworks didn't spark when they touched, like they had in his dreams? What if he saw her in that white dress and flower crown, but he was trapped in the crowd of guests, with Ruby Gillis clutching his arm instead?

Anne was so very important to him. If their romance didn't pan out as his hopes had dictated they should, he wasn't sure if they'd be able to salvage a friendship.  
He blinked, eyes focusing once more on his befuddled reflection. He was getting ahead of himself.  
He could construct more 'what if's until he was blue in the face, the fact was that he and Anne were still friends.

Nevertheless, it was easy to get ahead of one's self when Anne was concerned. He could imagine them as a power couple: the good doctor and the clever teacher. She could bring her children to his surgery on a trip to learn about the human body. He'd make fun demonstrations to make them and her smile.

A realisation dawned on him rather suddenly, one he was sure had been nudging him for quite some time.   
He'd happily do anything if it made her smile. He knew little of her life before Avonlea, but he'd seen her own memories seize her. Her eyes had gone wide and vulnerable, and for a split second, it seemed she wasn't even in the room, like her mind had commandeered her attention from reality, only to remind her of past cruelties. It didn't take a genius to work out that Avonlea was by far the best home she'd had. If he could make it better for her by cracking a joke or losing in a spelling bee, he would.

Gilbert moved forward and gripped the edge of his dresser, staring hard at himself, as if waiting for his glass twin to wink at him. His bare face was long forgotten, replaced by burning red hair and eyes the colour of favourite dresses. Bash liked to say a boy was someone who couldn't admit when he was gone over a girl.  
Gilbert Blythe was a man. 

A man who sometimes thought a little too hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
